The Life of a Girl Called Indie
by Just.Another.Glader
Summary: I attend Wicked High - a normal school in a normal city, filled with normal people. This is the tale of one less than normal week, and a story about how I experience it.
1. Chapter 1

I've never been good at introductions, so I'll start with the basics. My name is Indie. I'm a student at Wicked High. The first thing in you need to know about me is that I am most certainly, very definitely, extremely not cool. I am not a popular. Instead, I'm the kind of girl who reads books and gets good grades. And, by the way, I'm fine with that. I'm happy. I guess you also need to know what I look like. I have dark brown hair that hangs by my waist, brown eyes, freckles, and a plain face which is nothing special. I don't even have glasses or braces. The only thing unusual about me is my height - super tall. It's not like I'm sassy or confident, outgoing or interesting. I'm just me.

Also, I'm not popular among boys. In fact, they usually just walk straight past me as if I don't exist. Not once has a single male who's not related to me or meant to look at me so much as noticed me. This is annoying, I guess. There are some pretty hot boys at my school. For example, you have Thomas - a natural athlete with a cute personality; Minho - too cocky for my liking, but still painfully hot; Ben - the fit dude who's always cracking jokes; Aris - the sweet one who seems so caring; Alby, the authoritative one with a brooding face; George, the funny and totally wrong minded one; and Newt - the sweetheart ladies man with an English accent and those chocolate eyes... But it's not like I care. I certainly don't mind how every single day I sit in class with them, noticing them, while they just ignore my existence. Also, they mostly already have girlfriends. Thomas has Teresa, Ben has Harriet, Aris has Rachel, Newt has Kizzi and Minho always has someone. All of them are perfectly happy. And I'm perfectly happy too. I mean, I've got great friends, like Brenda, Frypan, Winston and Lex. They're who I'm sitting with right now.

"Hello? You still alive?" Brenda yells, waving her hand in front of my face. Her coffee coloured eyes are lit with humour.

I roll my eyes. "No, I'm dead. This is my ghost you're speaking to." I say sarcastically.

"Ooh, really? What a shame. I was really starting to like ya." Lex jokes, sea green eyes lit with humour. Casually, she flicks locks of her blazing auburn hair behind her ear.

"Shut up, _Alexandriana_." I tease, knowing how much her full name annoys her.

Kris laughs and flicks her coal black hair cockily. Her ice blue eyes glint. "It's rude to make fun of people's names, _Indabelle_!"

"Oh, really, _Kristil_?" I pull her black hood down over her eyes.

"You guys and your stupid names. Kris, your parents can't even spell! At least I have a normal name." Brenda says haughtily.

"Ladies, ladies! Slim it! We're all friends, not food." Frypan cuts in, holding his hands up.

Brenda laughs. "Just 'cause your brother is a _Finding Nemo_ fan does _not_ give you permission to quote it every hour."

Winston sniggers. Before anyone can say anything else, the bell rings. A horde of students rush to the lockers. Doctor Paige is super strict about punctuality, God forbid anyone should be late for anything. Paige has loads of rules that will apparently train us in etiquette and discipline that were created by the founder of Wicked High, Sir Alistair Stephen Wicked. Unfortunately this means that you get crushed by waves of people as soon as the bell goes. Luckily I'm tall, so I can just push my way through the crowds and get to wherever I want to go. Lex and Brenda use this as a fast pass to get to their own lockers by standing behind me and walking through the space I make. When I get to mine, I pull out my biology books. I'm pretty good at science, if I do say so myself. Sadly that means I'm Janson's star pupil - he teaches every science class I'm in - and because everyone hates Janson, no one likes me. It's not my fault the Rat-Man likes me, it's just...actually, maybe it is my fault for being me.

I start walking towards the biology lab. None of my friends are in the same biology class as me, so I guess I'll just have to sit on my own at the front of the class. Again.

When I enter the room, I can see Rat-Man placing sheets of paper on each desk. A new assignment. He refers to our projects as secret missions, totally private operations for the greater good. He's weird like that.

"Why, if it isn't the wonderful Indie! Come to join me for another fun lesson? This week you've got a great mission that I've chosen. This one will really benefit you in the long term." Janson exclaims. His glasses slip down the narrow bridge of his nose until they rest on the pointy tip. Bunny rabbit teeth catch on his lower lip now he's grinning. More people are filing into the room. Suddenly a gaggle of people enter - the populars. Almost all of them are in this class. Minho, Ben, Newt, Thomas, Teresa, Kizzi and Minho's current girlfriend (I think she's called Miya). Noisily they find seats at the back of the room while Janson shoots them cold glares. He naturally hates those guys. I begin reading the sheets in front of me. The first line I read says _you will work in groups of eight_. That's interesting, it's usually groups of five at the most. This means that some poor soul will have to work with the populars. The boys I don't mind, but their girlfriends... Let's just say, apart from Harriet, they're not my type - and Harriet's not even in this class. If you're ever stuck alone in a room with the selection of populars in this class, I suggest you leave immediately. Kizzi, Minho and Teresa have a habit of picking on anyone they see as less important than themselves. Maybe if Newt's in the room you'll be safe from Kizzi, but if he's not, you're going to have a very bad time. Kizzi acts like a loving and bubbly angel around Newt, but when he's out of the picture she becomes the devil. I've known them since I was twelve, so I've learnt how cute she is around him and how evil she is when he's gone.

The Rat-Man takes shuffles the papers on his desk and clears his throat, commanding silence. I look up at him and watch as he begins to speak.

"Greetings, students. I am pleased to announce that we are going to be starting a new mission today. The subject is _the brain_. I want you to learn all about the different sections of your brain and their uses. You shall create presentations to show to the rest of the class which explain everything listed on your sheets. I'm not going to take long explaining this, because you have the sheets to do that. Now, I'm going to let you pick your own groups, but I'm only going to do one tiny thing. Indie, please come over here and join your fellow pupils at the back of the class. That makes eight of you! Your group is sorted. You have a week to complete this task." Janson declared. A series of disbelieving and infuriated whispers come from the populars. I can't believe this. I don't dare turn around, because I can already feel the daggers theatre being stared into my back. Instant death. This means instant death. Actually, no, this means a long and painful death is coming.

Minho speaks up first. "How come? I thought we get to choose!"

"I'm sorry, Mr Park, but last time you did an assignment... Well, there wasn't really an assignment in the end, was there? Miss Williams will make sure that this time you actually do the work I set you. Do you have a problem with that, Minho?" The Rat-Man sneers. When his back is turned I can hear a quiet 'yes' from Minho's direction. It's nice to know that I'm loved.

The rest of the lesson passes far to quickly. Janson teaches us about the brain and I worry about what's going to happen to me later. The Rat-Man keeps smiling at me as if he's given me the best gift ever. I really hate him right now. The bell rings and I grab my stuff, hurrying out of the classroom so I don't get confronted.

"Hey, wait!" Newt yells down the corridor, his accent thick.

Grimacing, I turn around to face him. "What do you want?"

"I want ya to meet us at Minho's house later so we can do the project - lets just get it over with. I'll text ya the time and address. What's your number?" Newt asks. I raise an eyebrow quizzically but recite my number to him.

Minho's new girlfriend snorts. "How come that dumb shank gets to go anywhere near his house? It's not like he wants her there," she sneers. She turns to look at me. "I hope you realise that we don't want anything to do with you. Like, anything. That slinthead the Rat-Man might be makin' us work together, but we _so_ do _not_ want you hangin' around us. Like, ever. Yeah?"

I laugh. "Well, I'm sorry, you're majesty. I obviously thought that since we're in a group together, I'd be your new BFF. I guess not, then. Excuse me while I cry in the corner. I just have one question: how do I look from up there on your high horse?"

Where did that come from? Shocked gasps come from the direction of the populars. Minho strides forward until he's stood directly in front of me. He doesn't have to look that far down to look straight into my eyes, I'm nearly as tall as him. "Excuse me?" he smirks. "What-"

"Slim it, Minho, and Miya, you can shut it too. Izzy is in our bloody group, after all. If you want her to do any of the work, you'll have to let her come over to your house when we meet up. Play fair, ya shank. After all, we need her to like us if we want her to do anythin' for us. That's not workin' out great so far, is it?" Newt interrupts. Thank god, someone here is not a complete klunkhead.

"We don't need her to like us. We can make her do anything we want." Minho counters.

Newt snorts. "Really? Ya think? This is Rat-Man's favourite ever star pupil. Harm one hair on her body and he'll bloody kill ya."

Oh great. So that's what they think of me. "My name's Indie, by the way, not Izzy," I say.

"Sorry, Indie. I'm not great at names," sighs Newt.

"You expect me to let her in my house?" Minho asks, going back to the subject.

"No way am I going anywhere near his house." I announce.

Newt rolls his eyes. "Yes, you are."

I can't stand this anymore. All they're doing is making me feel bad about myself, reminding me how truly worthless I am. Shooting one last glare at my new enemies, I stalk off to my locker. That was the last class of the day which means that, if we want to finish this project, I'm going to have to go to Minho's house. It's also Friday, which means I'm going to spend the next two days trapped in a room with the populars.

It's been an hour since I got a text from Newt. The text annoyed me. It read _meet us at Minho's, 5pm -_ perfect spellings, but absolutely no apology for making me feel like a worthless, unpopular piece of klunk. I'm standing outside Minho's house. Sunlight illuminates the porch of his massive house. His house is truly giant - white stone walls reach up to the sky, contrasting against the dusky sky. Huge glass windows are everywhere, everything is modern in every direction. A white Porsche and a black Lamborghini are on display in the driveway. Bubbling water from the fountain in the centre of the drive tinkles through the air. I rap the brass knocker and the door opens. Teresa is stood there, coal black hair draped over her shoulders like a scarf, sapphire eyes glinting. "Well, I guess you'd better come in then," she said, gesturing towards the doorway with a pale hand.

"Thanks." I reply flatly. Teresa leads me through the corridors to a lounge, where the populars are sprawled across cream sofas. Most of them have a beer in one hand. I'm a tea-total, I don't drink alcohol. I hate the idea of being drunk. Imagine not being able to even control what you're doing...just no.

"Look who decided to show up! It's the klunkhead from biology classes!" Minho exclaims unenthusiastically. His ebony hair is dark against the pale room, and his toned body shows through his white tee. Damn, how come the biggest assholes get the best looks?

One thing catches my eye. On a plumped up armchair in the corner of the room is a small pudgy boy with springs of curly brown hair. His chestnut eyes look alone and abandoned. The first thing I do is walk over to him and stick out my hand. "Hey," I say softly, "I'm Indie. Who're you?"

The boy's eyes light up, and a broad smile spreads across his face making his cheeks dimple. "I'm Chuck! I'm Thomas's brother. He made me come 'cause our parents are out, so he has to look after me." He shakes my outstretched hand.

I can feel eyes on the back of my neck like needle pricks. When I turn, everyone is staring at me with baffled expressions. Newt's mouth is quirked into a tiny smile, but Kizzi's face is disgusted. She snuggles closer into Newt when she catches my eye, as if to make a statement. I already know she's with Newt, she doesn't have to tell me that. I kneel down to nudge Chuck's shoulder and whisper, "What's with them?"

Chuck smiles smugly. "They always ignore me when I'm over here. Well, they never used to, but then Teresa and their other girlfriends came along, so now they just act like I don't exist. No one ever speaks to me before talking to them anymore. You're the first one in ages!"

I stand back up. "Ummmm... Hi?" I say awkwardly.

"So glad you could make it," Minho says sarcastically.

Newt rolls his eyes. "Shouldn't we actually do something now she's here? The project's due next week."

"Oh, sure," says Miya, turning to me. "Right this way. The computer's over there in the library. You can go do our project and we'll stay here."

Kizzi and Teresa laughed. Harriet frowned. "Surely if it's a _group_ project the _group_ should do it _together_."

I mentally add this to my list of reasons to like Harriet. I'm soooo glad that Ben decided to fall in love with her.

Newt nods, but Ben shakes his head. "C'mon, Harri, we already let her in the shucking house. Let's just leave her to it for a while. Anyway, you're not even in our class, so what's it matter to you?"

I move to the computer anyway. I really can't be bothered with the populars right now. It'll be faster to do it in my own.

I've been working for an hour now. This library is huge. Dark oak bookshelves line every wall, and the floor is a contrasting white. Nothing's really happened yet, but I've learnt loads about the brain. It said in the booklet to study this part called the killzone, which is the most prone to disease and mental illness. I've had to listen to the stupid conversations from next door for ages. My conclusion: Teresa, Kizzi, and Miya are hell's angels sent to destroy us all. They are just so vain! Everything is about them. It makes me sick. Teresa used to be a nice girl, but then she became a popular and this is the result.

Miya walks through the door holding a glass of red wine. "Minho told me to be nice," she explains. I adjust my foot, and she trips over and drops the glass. It shatters, ringing through the air. Red wine bleeds across the white stone floor like a blossoming rose. "Shuck," she whispers.

The people next door hear the noise and start coming into the library. The urge to lie on the floor on the wine spill and pretend I've been shot is strong, but I decide I can make a fool of myself some other time. Miya's cheeks flush bright red and she looks like she might cry. Why? It's just a bit of wine. The stone isn't porous, so it will be easy to clean. Miya starts trembling, and I'm even more confused. She sniffs pitifully. Minho walks in and I realise why. He dumped his last girlfriend because she spilt food somewhere. I feel really guilty now.

"Miya," Minho says calmly. "Did you drop this?"

"I...I didn't mean... Like, I tripped and it slipped and... Please Minho, please. Don't dump me! I'm totes better than Amber! Honestly, it was an accident!" Miya begs. I'm such a horrible person. Wait, no, Minho's a horrible person if he just dumps girls whenever they spill drinks.

Minho raises an eyebrow. "If you have this much lack of trust, I should dump you anyway. You're getting boring now, anyway. I need someone new."

Wow. Wtf. I can't believe he just said that. This guy is fifty times more snooty than I thought.

"Only joking!" Minho laughs. Miya is already sobbing, black tears of mascara making lines down her face and dragging through her foundation.

Sticking her nose in the air, Miya takes one last attempt at respectability. "Yeah, like, whatevs, I'm dumping _you_. I found this dude called Nick and he's super hot so, like, I don't even care. Nick asked me out the other day and I said maybe," she says, dreamily fiddling with her dark blond hair. "So I think this thing between us is totes over. By the way, Nick has a Ferrari. It's red. And his house is bigger. See ya guys!"

With that, Miya stalks out of the house. Talk about a diva! Minho just looks a bit miffed, confused at the worst. I will never understand these relationships. I hear the familiar rumble of Lex's truck outside - she agreed to pick me up, because my parents dropped me off here. "That's my ride," I announce. Everyone is too dumbfounded to answer.

Minho takes me to the door, as if expecting me to get lost in the corridors from the library to the door. When we reach the front door, Lex is leaning against the black truck. Her Suberin hair rolls down her back like a wave of flames, flickering and dancing with colour. She's wearing her cute black skater dress with black, silver studded high heels. Trust her to take first impressions so seriously. I try not to laugh as I see Minho's eyes widen and his smirk disappear. Lex is blushing slightly, a pretty pink against porcelain skin. I look at Minho knowingly and hop into the truck. Glad to be away from the weird world of popularity, I nudge Lex to remind her that she has something to do. The sky is a colour wheel of pinks, blues and oranges above us. Waving my hands in the air through the sunroof above me, I trace the emerging stars with the tips of my fingertips. Then I start to tell Lex all about this evening, and how Minho is once again single. She smiles, and I know who'll be picking me up from Minho's for the rest of the week.


	2. Chapter 2

-: It's been a while. Sorry about that. I hope you enjoy this update as much as I enjoyed writing it. It's been a long time coming, but I'll try my best to update often now x :-

"Sooooo... Does this mean you'll be workin' with Minho for the next week? At his house?" Lex asks down the phone. I can hear the excitement in her voice and it reminds me of when we were little kids, eight or so. She had this crush on a boy called Stephen and wouldn't shut up about him. Just one glance at him and her cheeks would turn bright pink. Looks like I'm going to have to deal with that all over again. As if the next week isn't going to be bad already.

"Yeah, Lex. And yes, you can take me over to his every night. Okay?" I sigh.

Lex sniffs down the phone. "This isn't about Minho."

"Oh really? I thought everything was about Minho." I reply. Maybe that was a bit harsh.

"Why are you in such a bad mood? You don't understand. You never understand. I'm going to speak to Kris. See you in an hour," she snaps.

The line goes dead. I plug in my headphones and turn the music up. I hate days like these - days when nothing's going to go right, and I might as well lie in bed all day. But if I did that, my mum would lecture me on how I'm so lazy and need to get out and live my life. Sometimes I just don't care. I reach into the half empty packet of malteasers on my bedside table. Slowly shovelling the sticky balls of wonder into my yawning mouth, I'm glad my Fall-Out-Boy t-shirt's black, or there'd be way too many chocolate marks on it for me to wear it anymore. Now that would be a tragedy. My phone starts ringing. Huh, maybe Kris didn't pick up so Lex's calling me again. I pick it up, and answer without looking at the caller ID.

"Hello," I mumble.

"Indie! Hi, I was just wonderin' if your friend wants to come over later while we're doing the project. Y'know, that redhead who looks like Amber only prettier." It's Minho! I wrinkle my lip in disgust. Why can't he last more than a day without having some girl who's fresh, adoring heart he can break? Amber was one of his previous girlfriends, she dyed her hair the same colour as her name. Looks like Minho wants a repeat.

I don't want Lex to date Minho. Not ever. He's a jerk, it's as simple as that. But what can I say? "Kay, I'll ask her for you. She probably doesn't want to, just so you know. But yeah, I'll ask."

Minho sniffs down the phone. "Sure. Yeah. Okay. Well then. Right. See you then."

There is a click followed by silence. Maybe I shouldn't tell Lex, I think. Everyone knows he's a jerk, yet for some reason everyone still practically throws themselves at his feet, begging for his hand in marriage. Gross. I sigh. Oh well, if Lex wants this...

My hand subconsciously finds its way into the bright red packet again. More chocolate. Some days I think that's the only good left in the world: food. Surprisingly, I'm not actually overweight. Just a bit chubby in the face area, like an overgrown hamster. I lean back and squish my head into my pillow. Despite being fully dressed, I'm partially submerged in the depths of my duvet. It's eleven o'clock. I should probably get up, Lex is taking me to Minho's in an hour. I better not be late.

As Lex's tomato-red truck pulls into the spacious drive of the Park's prestigious mansion, I check myself in my phone reflection. Strands of unruly hair refuse to stay put, and the concealer under my eyes seems to have done absolutely nothing other than make the dark under my eyes a bit more smeary. Emerging pimples on my nose make me look like I did when I went as Rudolph to the school Christmas party. That would be a little more acceptable if it wasn't summer. At least I made a small attempt to cover them, even if it wasn't with the best foundation. Foundation about three years out of date.

Speaking of appearances, Lex sat next to me looks like Ariel. Slightly shimmery turquoise fabric is twisted round her body in the form of a modest yet elegant dress. Her hair is woven into a fishtail plait which winds its way down her spine. Glinting pearl earrings are a pretty contrast to her fiery locks. I sigh. She looks so gorgeous. I look back down at my outfit, a casually thrown on pair of jeans and my black tee. Wait, let me correct that - my tee is no longer really that black, it's really dark grey from wear. I look like a slob. Lex looks like a princess.

Opening the door, I slide myself across the seat and stand up, whacking my forehead on the door frame as I do so. Pain. This is pain. As I tenderly rub the purple bruise making an appearance on my forehead, Lex practically drags me to Minho's front door. If this were a musical, she'd be singing and jumping and clicking her heels right now. Before she can even knock Minho's there, grinning like Jaws would if he were a person. Waves of cologne stifle me, and I choke back a cough. That really stinks.

"Lex, how nice to see you!" he purrs. "I'm glad you came!"

Oh, I nearly shout at him. This performance seems like it's been performed many a time before. What with the gelled hair and the beaming smile...ew. Turning to Lex, but I almost drag her back to the car. Her cheeks are pink, and she's twirling a loose strand of hair in her fingers while she gazes at him. She's besotted. How? I know she has a crush on him but hell, how does she not see how fake this is?

Minho smirks at me. He knows he's got Lex wrapped around his finger. "Well then, you'd better come in."

I wait and watch in horror as he takes my friend's hand and leads her into his massive house. I follow them to the lounge. Everyone's there from last time other than Miya. Ugh, I forgot about that. I'm such a slinthead. Wow.

Chuck appears from the shadows in the corner of the room. He waddles up and smiles at me enthusiastically. I smile back. He's the only person in this room I wanna talk to right now. Muttering a 'hi' to the rest of the room, I disappear to my computer and set to work. Diagrams of the Killzone are scattered across the screen on the file I started last time. I pride myself on my PowerPoint skills. I already have a little brain in the corner of the page that I animated so it spins in circles. I'm so cool. Nerdy is cool. Well, it would be if I was queen. Queen Indabelle the first. My name is super posh, so I'm halfway there. Shuck, I'm getting sidetracked. I need to finish this project as soon as possible. The populars are really getting on my nerves.

The rasp of chair legs being pulled across the floor signals the arrival of Chuck. He slumps down next to me. "Indie," he moans, "what the shuck? Why are you looking at pictures of brains? Are you, like, a part time zombie?"

Rolling my eyes dramatically, I grab his chubby face. "Braaaaaiiiiinssss," I wail. He giggles and slaps my hands away.

"The shuck is going on back there?" It's Minho. I yell back that nothing's wrong, pulling a face that only Chuck can see. I guess I'm not really like any of the others girls who ever come round here. The populars are used to swooning, giggling girls in skimpy dresses who're pouting their lips. Then one day they have a jean wearing, barely caring girl who doesn't lie in puddles so that they don't get their feet wet. Not that anyone's ever done that. I think. But, as you can imagine, being here I feel like...well, like an ugly duckling, I'm that out of place. However, unless puberty performs some miracle, I'm not gonna be a swan.

I can hear the conversation from the other room. They're going on about how weird some kids in our year are. One sec, did someone just say Frypan's name? I start to listen.

"Yeah, him and that other guy, Winston, they're so gay," starts someone, I think it's Kizzi.

Another, probably Ben, agrees. Harriet chips in to say that 'there's nothing wrong with being gay, slintheads'. She then adds something about how someone fairly popular isn't straight, and that no one thinks that's a problem. Good on her.

Suddenly Teresa aims the conversation at Lex. "You're friends with those guys," she sneers. "What's their deal? Are they gay?"

I can practically hear the tension in the air. Lex's reply is so quiet I can barely hear it. "Umm, well, y'know, like, I'm not _that_ closeto them. But yeah, hah, probably."

"Why are you even friends with them? How do you manage?" Minho asks cruelly.

"Friends? Ahah, yeah, they're kinda my friends, but, like, I prefer you guys." Lex replies. My eyes sting. Why would she say that? How could she...what?

I can feel my shock bubbling into rage. Like some demon monkey, I fling myself out of the chair, storming passed a wide-eyed Chuck. Past the snickering populars I go, right up to my 'friend'.

"Ooh, Lex, I'm sorry but I think I must've heard you wrong. What was that about your 'kinda friends'? What was that about Frypan and Winston? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?" I scream in her face.

She looks up at Minho for an answer.

I'm done here.

Seething and unable to work my vocal chords, I storm out of the mansion. I keep walking out of the drive until I'm out of sight. I collapse into tears. Trembling, I take my phone out of my back pocket and open my contacts.

When Frypan arrives to pick me up, he's on his parents' Dominoes Pizza moped. He practically drags me off the verge and deposits me on the back of the bike. He plants a helmet on top of my disheveled head of hair. "It'll be a stuffed crust tonight, I'm guessin'." I don't think anyone could say anything more comforting right now.

Did I over react earlier? I dunno. Probably. Pizza makes everything better, I've learnt over the years. Today is no exception. Sinking my teeth into the squidgy cheesy crust, I sigh as I watch strings of yellow stretch like tightropes from the pizza to my mouth. Next to me are Frypan and Brenda, on top of us is a blanket, and in front of us are pizza boxes and _Finding Nemo_. Frypan's brother's obsession is catching.

I still can't honestly believe Lex. She literally disowned her own best friends. I mean, maybe she didn't mean it that way, but that's how I took it. One half hour with the populars and she's already wishing she never knew her own friends. My list of insults is growing inside my head by the second. Frypan called Brenda because he thought she'd be comforting. As it turns out, we're both just seeing who can think of the most descriptions for Minho. If I tell you that the nicest ones are bad enough to shock the kids that hang out in the allies with beers and cigarettes, I think you'll be able to work out how bad the worst ones are. Damn Janson. One homework assignment, and here I am, pitifully cramming food into my mouth and reciting every line from a Disney movie I haven't watched in years.

"It's all cool, Indie. Tomorrow Lex'll come and apologise, and it'll all go back to normal. She was just being stupid. Blame Minho. I swear he poisoned her. That's why she was bein' so rude. Yeah, I bet he drugged her." Brenda reassures me.

I snort. "You and your conspiracy theories. Not everyone is part of a soul sacrificin' cult."

Brenda shoots me a very serious look. "Ya never know, Indie. My uncle Jorge is in the Secret Services. It's best to keep an open mind."

I gulp back the laughter. Last time any of us laughed at Brenda's superstitions, she forced us to watch five hours of YouTube videos about secret cults and organisations.

"I'm not sayin' that the populars are a cult, by the way. Actually...oh my gosh. What if they are? They could be! Maybe that's how they-"

"Right, Brenda, Indie, I think you'd better head home. It's gettin' late. The films over. My brother'll be sleepin' and I don't want ya wakin' 'im up. Shoo. I need my beauty sleep." Frypan interrupts.

"Awww, lil Ketchup!" Both me and Brenda coo simultaneously. Ketchup is Frypan's brother. That was his first word, ketchup. It was hilarious how miffed Frypan was. In his eyes, ketchup ruins the flavour of all good food, and using ketchup on anything other than chips is an insult to the chef. To be honest, that's kinda why we call him that.

Taking the hint, me and Brenda hug each other and Frypan, then leave for home. It's funny how when friends are what's bugging you, the solution is friends.


	3. Chapter 3

"Will ya be havin' extra cream on that then, Indie?" asks Kris from behind the Starbucks counter. She doesn't wait for an answer before squirting a sugary peak onto the towering frothy mountain on my frappuccino. I love coming in here while Kris is on shift even more than I do when that super cute guy is. At least she talks to me...and notices me...and knows how to spell my shucking name. I swear, no matter how many times he's served me, no matter how many times I've exasperatedly reminded him that 'Indie' ends in an 'ie', he still only spells it with an 'i' on the end. At least Kris knows how to spell. I come here every Sunday when it's her slot.

I guess the fact that I basically live around the corner from the Starbucks cafe might also contribute to me coming so often. I always sit in the same seat, the one that has the best view. Yep, I do truly love my view into the dismal Tarmac-smothered street. Sometimes, when I'm really lucky, it rains. Actually, it rains quite a lot. Anyway, then I have the sadistic pleasure of getting to watch smartly dressed business people use all the cells in their mega-brains to work out a way around the mass of filthy puddles that surround them. It's like a minefield. Every now and then someone underestimates a jump, and lands in one. Forget the Kardashians, those faces are genuine quality entertainment.

It's not raining today. It's summer. Instead, while Kris serves the steady stream of caffeine addicts that filters into the shop, I watch the pigeons. Those gamy legged little dudes need to find themselves something to do all day other than doing their business on the already grotty wooden bench that no one ever uses anymore. Poor old bench.

Inhaling the scent of my double chocolaty chip crème frappuccino, I'm reminded for the millionth time why this is my favourite drink. As you might've guessed, I'm neither a green tea nor a fruity healthy smoothie kinda girl. I'm more of a chocolaty cream sort of person. Super unhealthy and loving it. Taking a huge gulp of my drink, I relish the overly sweet taste.

Suddenly my phone buzzes. How dare someone interrupt this moment between me and my frappuccino? I reach into the deep pocket of my shorts and pull out my phone. Shuck, it's a text from Newt. _You're_ _still coming over tonight, right? Just forget last night, it wasn't any of our fault,_ the text reads. Wow. I'm partly impressed that he texts without using slang and annoying abbreviations, but that is way overwhelmed by my annoyance. Oh, so last night was nothing? So it wasn't the populars' fault? So I should just get over it? My fingers rapidly tap over my phone screen. _If you think I'm coming anywhere near you shanks,_ I type, _you're dumber than I shucking thought_.

That was terrible. What sort of insult was that? I sound like I should be playing pretend with Ketchup; not alone in Starbucks, drinking the most unhealthy option on the menu. This is just tragic. I really need to do something. A hand taps my shoulder, making me jump.

"Kris? Shuck, you scared me. What is it?" I ask.

Kris raises an eyebrow. "It's the end of my shift. I'm done."

"What? Oh, yeah. Yeah. Okay." Whoops, I got sidetracked watching pigeons.

As per usual, Brenda, Fry, Winston, Kris and I are sat in Frypan's cosy lounge. The TV is playing in the background but none of us are really watching. Instead, we're gossiping as we usually do. But today we're talking about a different person. We're talking about Lex. It was so weird what she did, suddenly deciding that she prefers...other company. We would've forgiven her immediately if she just apologised already...maybe...possibly... But anyway, she just hasn't. She won't reply to texts. She's just broken contact with us. I'm blaming that slinthead Minho. Yes, I'm mad. Unsurprisingly so are all my friends.

"Just you wait," Kris says. "Soon Minho'll dump her and move onto the next. It's the same with everyone."

Winston nods in agreement. "And then she'll come straight back to us."

"I just don't get why she even thought about datin' him. He'll treat her the same as the rest." Frypan adds.

I shake my head. "They're not even a thing yet. They're not even dating. He just asked me to bring her round to his house and hey presto, she's ditched us."

We carry on ranting along these lines until Brenda checks her watch. "Guys! Shut up! Are we going into town or not? My dad has to take me to judo class in a couple of hours, and I'm hungry."

Brenda's pretty tough. Ever since she was little, her parents have taken her to all sorts of self defence classes and stuff. She's probably the only reason why we never have any trouble at school. When we were younger this kid called Gally picked a fight with her, and she broke his nose. Ever since then no one's gone anywhere near her, or any of the rest of us. Yeah, she sure knows how to look after herself. Thanks, judo classes.

It's not a long walk from Frypan's house to the city centre. All of us live in Glade City, and we all live in walking distance from each other. Only the super rich have houses on the outskirts of the city and the countryside. Like Minho, for example.

As soon as we reach the centre, we head to the Homestead. The Homestead is, by my reckoning, the best restaurant in these parts. It's owned by the Einsteins. Their son, Alby, is in my maths class. Before it was a restaurant, the Homestead was an abandoned hospital. It was dank, dreary and dilapidated - the festering remnants of a place that'd long ago been deemed 'unfit for services'. Various stories and rumours surround it: they say that many patients died there, and that illegal tests were run inside its depressing confines. Now, though, it's a warm, spacious area, full of laughter and music. The Einsteins removed everything that was the old hospital, keeping only the name.

As I walk through the dark oak door, I realise immediately that we probably should be going. Sat around a large circular table in the centre of the restaurant is the exact group of people that I really don't want anything to do with. And amongst them, snuggled up to Minho, is Lex. Her cheeks flush slightly beneath her foundation. Sensing this, Minho himself lifts his eyes to look in my direction.

"Indie, what're ya doing? Move out the way!" Brenda demands, shoving me forwards so she can get through. As soon as she spots the populars, she freezes. Her coffee-coloured eyes light up in annoyance. "Shuck. Wasn't expecting to see those little shanks today."

Minho's face breaks into an arrogant grin. "Ah, Indie, we were just talkin' about you! We decided that we're not gonna do that shucking project. You can do it for us, slinthead."

"How about no," is all I say. I'm sick of his narcissistic mannerisms.

Minho smirks. "How about yes, geek. You care about grades and shuck. We don't. We're not doin' it. If ya wanna not fail, do it."

Brenda walks forward calmly. Suddenly she slams her palms down on their table, attracting the attention of everyone in the restaurant. "Right, Lex, I dunno what you're thinkin', but I think you're jacked," she announces coolly. "As for the rest of ya sorry shanks, Indie doesn't want anything to do with ya. You can do this shuckin' project yourselves, or ya can not do it at all. We just want ya to stay out of our buggin' way."

She spins around on her heels and walks back to the door, not looking back once. "Right, we're going," she says. Not waiting another moment, we all follow her lead, storming out of the Homestead.

As soon as we're out of earshot, Kris claps Brenda on the back. "Good on ya, girl. You told 'em."

I'm realise I'm gawking and close my mouth. "Brenda, how long have you been planning that speech?"

Brenda only sniggers, tucking stray strands of her chocolate-brown hair behind her ears.

Frypan shakes his head slowly. "Did they _have_ to be in the Homestead? Where are we gonna eat now?"

"Priorities," Kris laughs. "Haven't ya noticed? We're in a city. It's not like that was the only restaurant around. They're kinda everywhere, actually."

"Right, then, let's go find one. Seriously, I'm hungry, and I thought Brenda had to go soon anyway." Frypan says.

Thank the Lord for street food. Frypan's such a food snob, which is surprising considering his parents own Dominoes. In the end, we just brought burritos from a street vender. Now we're sat on benches in the park, eating them. Every now and then dog walkers pass by, but other than the seagulls waiting loudly for us to leave, it's pretty quiet. A true hatred for Minho Park has cemented in my mind. What Lex sees in him, I don't know. It's stupid. It's all stupid. And now I'm really, really annoyed. I might go to judo class with Brenda, just to hit something. Or kick something. Or whatever she does there.

"What's the deal now, then?" Winston asks. "Is Lex cool? Does this mean she's with them now?"

Brenda snorts. "Please. She'll be back with us again soon. All we need to do is stop payin' any attention to her, then Minho will have no incentive to keep her. He's just doin' it for the attention. Like everything he does."

She has a point. But still, no one knows how long it'll take. Could be months. And I must admit, I miss her. She's my friend, after all. Or, at least, she was.

My hand rhythmically presses the buttons on the TV remote, flicking through bad show after bad show. There's nothing on. I'm sprawled shamelessly across the sofa, doing absolutely nothing. My homework is done, my assignments for the week completed. The only thing I haven't done is the project. My biology is yet unfinished. I've contemplated whether or not to do it for hours, it seems. The answer is always no. I can't give in that quickly. It seems petty - it _is_ petty - but it feels as if that is my only withstanding act of defiance against my loathed enemies. No, I'm not being over dramatic.

I pick up my phone to check social media. Shuck me now. Lex has gone and posted a 'squad' selfie at the Homestead. That doesn't surprise me, really. What does is her comment: _thanks for a great day guys, today would've been hard without you xxx_. Wow. And I thought she wouldn't be able to surprise me more.

I stare at my phone screen. They all look so perfect, so attractive. It almost looks as if Lex was always one of them, she seems so comfortable. In all honesty, it's odd that she wasn't one of them sooner, what with her lustrous red hair and beautiful elfin face. When did she learn to do her makeup like that? She never wore it around me. Maybe I didn't know her as well as I thought I did. Needle pricks sting the corners of my eyes. I can feel a lump forming in my throat, as if I swallowed a ball of cotton wool. I don't want to cry. I can't cry. But there's nothing I can do, I can feel the warmth of tears spilling. Is it my fault that this is happening? Maybe I shouldn't have yelled at Lex. Maybe she never did like us anyway. I always knew she liked the idea of popularity. Her favourite song was Cool Kids by Echosmith. Her crushes were always on populars. I didn't realise it was that big a deal. Maybe it wasn't, maybe she just doesn't like us anymore. Maybe she got bored. I don't know. Well at least I'm not wearing makeup - then I'd look like a wreck as well as feel like one.

I haul myself off the sofa, and drag my feet to the fridge. This is an emotional breakdown. I need ice cream. I don't even bother with a bowl, I just grab the tub and a spoon. Only now do I actually look at what tub of ice cream I grabbed. Vanilla? Really? Shuck it. I dig my spoon into the tub. Now this is my kind of comfort food.

Vibrations in my pocket persuade me to pull my phone out. I press the green button and hold it up to my ear. "Hello?" I snivel.

"Indie? You okay?" The voice is distinctly British, and distinctly belonging to someone who I really, really don't like right now.

"What the shuck do you want, Newt? Come to say sorry, have we? Waste of time. I'm hanging up on you." I spit down the phone.

"Say sorry for what? What did I do? If you're so desperate for bloody apologies, go talk to your friend. I didn't do anything." Newt argues defiantly.

"I'm hanging up."

"No, wait! I'm sorry, okay, if that's what ya buggin' want. I just had to ring ya because..." he trails off. Now I'm interested. What's he gonna say? A declaration of love, perhaps? Haha, as if.

"Well, I need you to finish the project. My dad, see, he's threatenin' to make me move school, my grades are so bad. If I don't get any As this term, I'm gone. I'll go back to England, board back home. I don't want that. Please can ya do me a favour and just make sure I get that A?"

Well then. Okay. He just wants me to get him the grades.

"Even if I did get you this A, what about after that? What would you do afterwards? This would only get you one A, only this term. Next term you're gone." I reply harshly. Why should I be responsible for his grades, after all.

There's silence on the other end of the phone. Finally, he says something. "Yeah, I guess, but that's still a while longer. It'll give me time to study, pick up my grades. I'll even hire a private tutor, anything to stay here. Come on, Indie, please."

Newt moved to away from Glade city for a couple of years when he was around thirteen. He hasn't been back much more than a year. I remember that when he moved back, he didn't like talking about what it was like back in England. I wonder what happened there. He seems pretty desperate to stay, it can't have been anything good.

I sigh. "Why would it matter to me if you moved back? Surely if prefer it. You're a slinthead, and I don't like you or any of your friends. You can move to Antarctica for all I care."

Another silence. "I'll pay you."

He did not. "Shuck my life. You're such a pile of klunk! Why the shuck do you think I want your money? What the hell? Get a grip, Newt. You're jacked in the head. It's a shame the Homestead isn't still a hospital, I think you need one right now: you're sick in the head."

I punch the red button on my phone. Then I punch the wall. Something cold runs down my hand and drips onto my clothes. I look down. My ice cream has melted. This is a really bad day.

I switch back onto social media, and check Lex's account. Her bio has changed completely. Gone are the names Indie, Frypan, Winston, Brenda and Kris. We've been replaced by Kizzi, Newt, Teresa, Ben, Harriet and Thomas. Surrounded by heart emojis is Minho's name, and next to that is the statement 'taken'. Quickly I look up Minho's page. There on his bio is the name Lex, next to a kiss-face. I'm done here. I turn my phone off and stick it on charge, ignoring the few texts on the group chat. I put the ice cream back in the fridge. I go to bed not looking forward to tomorrow.


	4. Chapter 4

The sounds of multiple conversations fill the tightly packed canteen. Countless different social groups discuss countless different topics, mostly out of my earshot. My friends fade in and out of focus as I halfheartedly attempt to keep my eyes open. It's the Monday lunch break, and I can hardly stay awake.

"Hey Indie, are you even alive in there?" calls Brenda. Her hand is frantically waving in front of my face. I nod groggily.

"Aww, come on, this ain't like you," Winston adds. "Frypan's the one who can't do Mondays, not you."

The whole table turns to my right, where Frypan's face is pressed against the table top, arms folded over head. The clamour of the hall somehow manages to mask his deep rumbling snores.

The harsh sound of the school bell signifies the start of what will surely be a painfully dull afternoon. Reluctantly, everyone in the room pushes back their chairs and moves to the door. A wave of students surges down the corridor, and I'm swept along unwillingly. Managing to fight my way out of the mob when I reach my locker, I start to prepare for my next lesson.

Suddenly a hand clasps my shoulder. Biting back a yell, I spin around. Newt. It's Newt.

"What the shuck are you doing here?" I shout.

He grimaces. "You remember what I called ya about yesterday, yeah?" I nod, and he continues. "Well, ya didn't give me a chance to explain-"

"Whatever. I'm not helping you and your slinthead friends. Why the hell do you suddenly care about good grades anyway? What kind of stupid thing is that to be caring about, especially for someone like you? And why can't you just put the work in yourself?" I demand.

Newt sighs. "You don't understand. It's not like that. I'm failin' everything, I only ask for your help with one grade. If you quit the group, the Rat-Man will fail the rest of us. I wouldn't care but... My dad, see... I can't go back to England..."

What is this? Can he not just put some work in himself? Why do I need to do his work for him? "You can go back to England for all I care," I declare. "Just shuck off and leave me alone."

His face pales. "Aw, come on! It's nearly the holiday. We'll get our grades soon - almost all of them have already been decided. I've already got klunk for grades in every other subject. This is my last chance! Just...could you please hear me out?"

"What's so bad about England? You tell me that and maybe I'll think about it." I decide. I might as well just hear what he has to say, right?

Obviously relieved, Newt's slight smile appears. "Okay. After school, meet me by the Deadheads."

The Deadheads is the large, somewhat spooky forest near the school. Weird stuff is said to go on in there. I raise my eyebrows. "The Deadheads? Is that so you can easily bury my body when we've established that I'm not gonna help?"

Newt chuckles and walks off, soon becoming lost in the crowd.

"What was that about?" Brenda mutters. She has suddenly appeared at my shoulder.

"I don't even know," I sigh. And I don't.

***

Somehow I made it through the rest of the rest of the day without falling asleep. Now, I stand on the verge of the Deadheads. Walking towards me is the person who told me to come here. The person who is also late for the meeting he was so desperate for.

"Your late," I say, stating the obvious.

He rolls his eyes. "I said meet me after school. As far as I'm aware, that's not a specific time."

What a great start. He's already irritating me. And, I guess, I'm already irritating him. "So, what did you wanna tell me."

"I just wanted to persuade you that I can't go back to England," he replies.

"I came all the way here for that?"

"Yeah. How else was I gonna tell ya?"

"I dunno, maybe a phone call?"

"But it's more complicated than that!"

"How is it more complicated that that?"

"It's personal! This is personal stuff I have to tell you!"

"Ah, like what, some fear of leaving your friends? Leaving Kizzi, maybe?"

"You don't understand! I haven't told anyone this klunk! No one! I'm only doing this 'cause I have to!"

"Well get on with it and tell me then!"

Our voices have gotten louder and louder until I practically shouted the last word. It's sort of like a stand off in a cowboy movie, questions and answers being shot like bullets. Now is the ceasefire. We stand opposite each other, about ten paces apart. Slowly, I sit down. Partly to show submission, partly because I know that what he's about to tell me might take a while to explain. Following my lead, he shuffles forward and sits close to me of the hard ground.

"You know I went away for a year back when I was thirteen, I assume," he begins. "Well, I went to England. Home. My father wanted me to experience a 'proper English school'. It was definitely that, I suppose. Those ancient big buildings became my second home. I boarded there - that means I lived there. I ate, slept and worked with the boys I was there with. The first couple of weeks were fine, I guess. It was only later that it got really bad."

He pauses, grimacing, as if reminiscing the year causes him physical pain. "I don't really know what went wrong. I just didn't seem to fit in. I certainly wasn't liked. Actually, I was hated. I was the nerdy kid who couldn't play rugby. I wasn't even smart enough to make up for it. Sucks that they don't play American football over there, maybe I could've done a little bit better. Anyway, I was the outcast. The weirdo. I had enough of an American twang for that to be an issue as well. I was just different, and they didn't really like different."

Another pause. His gaze shifted to the sky as he figured out what to say next. "It started with names. Insults. Mockery. That dumb stuff that almost every kid has to experience. But it was later that the physical stuff came along. Punches, that sorta thing. All the things you see in movies, head down the toilet and stuff, I got that. I was the joke, the laughing stock. My dad refused to take me out, told me I just had to toughen up. It continued, it got worse. Every day I went to bed wishin' I wouldn't see another. Somewhere along the line, I just couldn't take it anymore. The buildings were big and old, like I said. Tall, pretty tall. So I decided I had to do it. I walked to the top one evening, and I fell back down."

His eyes are glazed with brimming tears. I can tell that the story's over. I can't believe what he just told me. I certainly can't unhear it. I don't feel like I have a choice now, I have to help him. But...what kind of father would send him back there?

"Why is your dad sending you back? After all you've been through, he'd surely at least send you to a different school," I say.

Newt stares at me. "Didn't I tell you I haven't told anyone?"

"What? Your own parents don't know? How could you not tell your own parents? How did they not know, surely the school told them?"

"Yeah, but I said I fell. I told everyone that I just slipped and fell. I don't have the best relationship with my parents. They...well, my dad would just be ashamed."

I feel so indescribably sorry for him. "I'll do it. I'll help you. Just I'll do it myself - no way am I going back to Minho's house again. Ever."

Newt grins, a smile so bright you would've thought I just bought him the country. "Deal."

We shake hands.

"You won't... You won't tell anyone, will you? It's just...ya know..."

"I'm not gonna tell anyone. Don't worry about it," I reassure him. As he stands up I remember his limp. When he returned from England, his leg was in a cast. I shudder to think how painful that was, but the reason he acquired it is even worse.

We start to walk back down the dirt track we used to get here. The sound of laughter up ahead makes Newt freeze. "Um, actually, ya probably shouldn't walk back this way..." he mumbles.

"This is the only way!" I reply, carrying on walking.

"No, Indie, really-"

As I round the corner, I am faced with Minho, Teresa, Kizzi, Ben and Lex. All of them are smoking something...shuck. No. I don't believe this. Drugs. They're doing drugs.

Kizzi looks up and notices me and Newt. Her eyes widen in shock. "Newt! Babe! Why is she with you? What were you doing in the woods, babe? You weren't... BABE?!"

Newt swears under his breath. "Nah, love! Course not! I was just persuading her to...ya know, help us out with the project. To do it for us."

Minho laughs, then saunters up to us brandishing unused marijuana. "Care for a joint?"

I push his arm out of the way. I'm completely gobsmacked. This is not Lex. Lex wouldn't do something like this. I simply stare at her, unable to comprehend the situation.

"Watcha looking at?" Lex slurs. Her hands are full; weed in one, cheap vodka in the other. Only now do I notice the broken bottles scattered across the ground, and the full ones yet to be drunk.

I am so angry. Lex wants to be a surgeon. She wants to get a degree. She wants to do things with her life. This is not her. "What are you doing?" I mutter.

"Nah, Indie. What are you doing? You're not my mum. You're not even my friend. Can't you just leave me alone? Get out of my life!" She replies drunkenly. The others snigger.

I start to walk towards Lex, fury pulsing through my veins: how dare she? A hand clamps around my wrist, restraining me. I shake my arm to no avail.

"Come on, Indie, walk past. Ignore her. She's drunk and stoned," Newt says. He drags me past the giggling druggies, pulling me through the trees. Half of me is glad that he isn't letting me near them. The other half wants to walk up to Lex and slap her round the face. Hard.

Just as they're behind me, Lex talks again. "Yeah, you leave. And don't come back, slinthead!"

I break out of Newt's grip, spin around, and sprint right up to Lex. Then I slap her with all my force. "That should wake you up, Lex. Open your eyes. I'm not the slinthead here."

Then I turn around. I turn and run. I run past Newt, and I don't stop running until I'm out of the woods, past the school, and in the streets. "Shuck off Newt," I say to the person next to me. "Those are your friends. Does this mean you're a druggie too? An alcoholic, maybe?"

"Back off! Just 'cause my friends take drugs doesn't mean I do too. I should be back there, ya know, with my friends. I ran all this way after you to make sure you're okay! And because, well, I hate seeing them high. You alright?"

"Yeah... It's just a shock seeing Lex like that. I'm not really all that surprised your lot do it, though. You can go now, if you want. I don't think you're wonderful girlfriend back there wants you hanging around me." I reply. I need some time alone. Only the other day, me and my friend were doing what we always did. Today that same friend hates me. She is also now a user. I hate the world.

"Okay, then. Bye, Indie. See ya round." Newt answers. I watch as he retreats down an alley to the left, a shortcut to the super rich part of the city. I walk down the same road I walk down every day after school, longing for home.

I don't understand what's wrong with the world.


	5. Chapter 5

The familiar sound of my phone ringtone drags me out of my fitful sleep. Groaning, I swipe my hand across my bedside table until it comes into contact with my phone. Without opening my eyes, I tap my finger in the vague area of the answer button. Who the shuck wants to call me at this time of night? Still unwilling to open my eyes, I raise my phone to my ear and grumble a "hello" down the phone.

My reply comes in the form of wracked sobs down the line from whoever's calling me.

The weariness I felt a moment ago fades rapidly, and I open my eyes. Staring down at the screen, I realise that something is very, very wrong. Minho is calling me. And he's crying.

"Minho? MINHO? What's going on? What happened?" I ask worriedly. This can't be good.

More uncontrollable sobs are broken by a sniff, and then a shaky voice replies. "It's Lex... She was driving and... Her truck, it hit a pothole... We span off the road... It flipped... She's not awake, I don't know what to do, no one's answering their phone-"

"Have you called 911? Is an ambulance coming?" I interrupt.

"N-n-no," he stammers, "I-I can't. I'll be arrested!"

Never have I wanted to punch this arrogant bag of klunk more.

"Where are you? What road? Any landmarks nearby?" I interrogate.

"The lane j-just before you get to my house..." he replies meekly.

"I'll be there in a second. Now go and look after Lex!"

Ending the call, I immediately dial 911. Filling the receiver in on all the details I know, I hurriedly pull on jeans and a hoodie. While she tells me that ambulances are being sent to the scene, I fumble in my pockets for the door keys. Unlocking the door, I run down the streets, not stopping until I reach a line of taxis outside a bar. Jumping into the first one, I give the driver the directions.

The cab pulls into the road and into the road, which is lit a buttercup-yellow by towering streetlights. Exiting the city, it speeds down narrow lanes, the streetlights replaced by the silhouettes of trees. When the car rounds a bend, blue flashing lights alert me that we've reached our destination. Thrusting hastily counted cash at the driver, I throw the door open and leap outside.

Lit by the eerie neon light, the crash scene looks like an ominous set from a horror movie. Lex's beloved red truck lies on its back, windows shattered from the impact. The roof is wrinkled and flattened like a squashed soda can. Blood covers part of the passenger seat door, Minho's blood from when he clambered out. Most horrifying of all is the limp body still strapped in its seat, matted auburn hair hanging like thick rope. The door is too battered to be opened. One grim looking paramedic is making a phone call, asking for a fire brigade team.

Lying on a stretcher, covered in his own blood, is Minho. Gashes litter his body, and his arm is stuck out at an odd angle. His usually pristine hair is stuck to together with clumps of sticky blood. His trademark smirk is twisted into a pained grimace. Tubes feed potent medicines into his veins, and an oxygen supply is being lowered over his grimy face. Various paramedics fuss over his battered body.

No one questions my presence as I approach him, they all just accept that I have a right to be here. I'm in shock. My brain is still trying to process the information. This is serious. This car crash could conclude with a fatality. That fatality might be my friend.

Overwhelming waves of emotion flood my numb body. Tidal waves of guilt wash over me. Tsunamis of possibilities surround me. I should never have let Lex go! It was my fault she even met Minho! If I had been a better friend, would she have ever joined Minho? If I had torn her away from those woods earlier, she would never be here! I want to scream, to holler at the inky sky above me, but instead I join Minho. Kneeling on the floor of the ambulance, I shamelessly wipe away tears from my eyes. I want to yell at Minho, blame him for what happened here, but the words won't come. Maybe it's because his battered body looks as broken as I feel; maybe it's because his pained whimpers remind me that he's hurt too. Either way, I accept that this is not the time for feuding.

"You okay there?" I ask weakly.

Minho lets out an agonised chuckle. "Does it looks like I'm alright, shuck face?"

I let a faint smile creep onto my face. "Ah, well, you always look like klunk so I couldn't really tell," I reply, attempting humour.

Another weak snigger. Suddenly Minho's expression switches to grim again. "Is Lex okay? Tell me Lex is okay. She...she's not..."

How can I be sat around making jokes? I leap up and sprint dazedly over to the wreckage of the car. Approaching sirens announce the arrival of the fire engine, as well as more ambulances. The crash site is like an ant nest, people swarming everywhere, trying to help wherever they can. Saws and jagged cutting tools set to work on the truck's door. I can only spectate as the truck is ripped apart, exposing the limo casualty. Lex is scoped out of her bloodied seat, then laid out on a stretcher. An ear-shattering screech pierces the thick night air. She's regained consciousness.

A gas mask is strapped over her mouth, filling her lungs with soothing gas. Brightly coloured syringes are plunged into her pale skin. The concoction of chemicals seems to be working, the wooziness of sleep returning to her trembling figure.

I can only watch as she's wheeled into another ambulance. They close the doors and speed off before I can react. I return to Minho's vehicle, clambering on board. The ambulance staff are quick to set off, racing down the road towards Glade City Hospital. A paramedic accompanies me and Minho is the back, working quickly and efficiently to try and clean his many wounds. Every now and then she'll fiddle with a tube or adjust a piece of equipment. Minho's breathing is shallow and irregular, his eyes flickering.

Eventually his gaze meets mine. "Thanks for coming. Thanks for saving us. Thanks for-"

"Stop. What else was I gonna do anyway? Just because I don't like you doesn't mean I'd leave you to die. Maybe next time I'll let the vultures have you, though," I interrupt. I don't want his gratitude. I just did what any sober person would do in the situation - and I was the only sober person in the situation.

Minho's espresso-coloured eyes darken. "It's my fault, isn't it. The alcohol, the drugs, her taking me home, me keepin' her up so late, her even being with me in the first place. If she... Well, if someone has to dig her grave, mine will be the next headstone they put up."

"Don't talk like that. That's klunk. She's gonna be fine. It's not anyone's fault," I say, using all my sympathy and rationality.

"It's not like I dragged her into this on purpose... I mean, she wasn't - isn't - just another pretty girl. I do... I do care about her, y'know."

I glower at him. "If you cared about her so much, why did you do this to her? Drugs? Alcohol? What kind of way of showing affection is that?"

His eyes cloud over. "I guess you could say I'm not all that good at showing affection."

The paramedic stares at us, her grey eyes widening at each mention of drugs. She didn't look that much older than us, this could even be her first call out.

When I look back at Minho, he looks so weak and afraid that I can't help but feel sorry for him. His current self is such a contrast to his usual obnoxious personality. "Is there anyone you want me to call? You're parents or relatives, maybe?"

"Like they'd do much good," he snorts. "But...um, can you call Thomas? Newt? Ben? Actually, no. I don't want to wake them up. They can visit me later."

"Give me your phone," I demand. "Give me your contacts. I dunno, but I have a feelin' they'd rather see their friend than catch enough beauty sleep."

"No, Indie, please," Minho grimaces, clutching his phone. "I don't want them to see me like this..."

"Minho, get a grip," I retort. "This isn't about your ego. Your friends will want to see you. They will want to know that you're okay. Are you not even gonna let them no what happened? Wait for them to hear some awful rumours instead?"

He slips the phone onto my lap. "5392," he says. "That's the passcode."

I tap the code onto the screen. Whilst doing so, I realise that his passcode is Lex's name. Five for L, three for E, nine for X and 2 for A. "You have her name as you passcode? You guys have only been dating a couple days!"

He smiles. "Yeah. Lexa, that's my pet name for her. It's cute, huh? I guess you could call it love at first sight."

Somehow he doesn't even sound arrogant. The love that lights up his eyes surprises me. Maybe she isn't just another pretty girl to him.

I refocus on his phone. The first contact I dial is Thomas's. After no

More than two rings, he picks up. "Minho? What's up? Why are you ringin' at this time of night?"

"Sorry if I woke you up. I have some bad news-"

"Who's this? Lex? What happened? Where's Minho?" Thomas interrupts.

"It's Indie. Minho and Lex, they were involved in a car crash. It's pretty bad. Can you meet us at Glade City Hospital? Minho's not in a good way. Can you come and see him?" I reply.

"Shuck. Yeah, I'll be there. I'll leave right now. Um, bye." He hangs up.

Next I try Ben. After three attempts with no answer, I settle for leaving a voicemail. Minho shifts uneasily.

The last contact I call is Newt's. After eight or so rings, he irritatedly replies. "Minho, what bloody time do you call this? Have you ever heard of buggin' sleep-"

"Newt, it's me." I interrupt.

The pause at the end of the line indicates his surprise. "Indie? What? Why are you calling on Minho's phone?"

"Um...it's Minho. And Lex. There was an accident. They crashed. They're not in a good way." I explain shakily.

"No... You're joking... Minho? Is he there? Can I talk to him? Please?" Newt's words are strained, as if he's trying to refrain from sobbing.

I switch the phone on to speaker and hold it up to Minho.

"Hey Newt," Minho says as cheerily as he can.

"Minho! Ya buggin' slinthead! Are you okay? I'll come straight to the hospital in a second. Shuck, ya could've died-"

"Woah, newt, slim it, I'm fine!" Minho cuts in. His face is contorted in a mix of both physical and emotional hurt.

Newt seems to sense Minho's emotions. "Sorry. I'm just worried about you, ya shank. I- well, if you'd...if it was worse..."

"Well it's not." Minho replies. "I'm fine. Fit as a dog." The paramedic shoots him a questioning glance.

"Like I believe that. If you were okay, why would Indie be there?" Newt retorted.

Minho's face falls. "Well... Lex..."

An audible intake of breath is followed by Newt's stammering words. "Oh my... I'm so sorry... Is she... Shuck..."

The ambulance pulls into the hospital, and the staff react with speed and fluidity. Minho is rushed out first, and I follow dazedly after him. While he's whisked away to be scanned, drugged and fixed; I wander into the cafe. I really need a coffee right now.

I stand in the doorway of Lex's hospital room. She's deep in sleep. Her parents are weeping over her seemingly lifeless body, consoling each other in between sobs. After I properly woke up, I'd remembered about Lex's parents. Their reaction tore at my heartstrings, and I was hit again by a wave of guilt about not dragging her away from the situation earlier.

Lex's body looks like a corpse about to be dressed for its funeral: spread flat on her back, covered only by a white sheet. The only proof that she's still alive are the steady beats of the heart monitor. Her characteristic auburn hair looks duller than usual, and her porcelain skin is marred by scabs and scratches. One half of her face is battered and bruised, the eye swollen. A slice through her lower lip contrasts against the rest of her mouth, a deep scarlet compared to the sickly pale. I notice that her nails are covered in chipped turquoise polish - the same shade she wore when she picked me up to take me to Minho's.

A voice behind me draws me from my stupor: "Indie, are you okay?"

"I don't even know anymore, Newt."

I turn around to see concerned chocolate eyes gazing down at me. Newt motions for me to follow him into the corridor. We walk until we stand outside the hospital building, alone and out of the way.

"You don't look too great," he says simply.

"Thanks for the compliment," I snap. I'm not in the mood.

"I don't mean it like that. I mean you look tired. And worried. You need a break for a moment, you've been up all night."

"I'm fine. Seriously," I say, turning to walk back into the building. I just want to stay with Lex and Minho, I want to know they're okay.

He raises an eyebrow. "Yeah, right. And pigs can fly."

"Newt, my friend could be dying in there. I might never talk to her again. She might never come out of that sleep. Do you honestly expect me to be fine with this?"

"No. Which is why I want you to come with me," he replies. Without another word, he spins on his heels and walks across the car park to a black moped. He suddenly thrusts a helmet at me. "Hop on, then."

I do as he says, clasping the helmet strap under my chin. He flicks a button and the scooter chokes, then jumps to life. It lurches forward, and I have to grab Newt's shoulders to stay on.

We speed down the streets, which are lit magically by the dusky light. Sun beams trickle upwards, mixing with the blue-black darkness. The edges of every building seem to glow with ethereal light, their windows shimmering and reflecting the changing sky. Shades of peach, orange, lilac, yellow and cyan are smudged across the sky like paints across a canvas. A few cars pass us by, but the usually busy roads are peacefully quiet.

Eventually the moped pulls up outside the Map Room. The Map Room is a small, humble cafe filled with armchairs and sofas. Clusters of cushions are scattered haphazardly across every seat, and rugs of varying shapes and sizes are dotted around the concrete floor. With few windows, the interior is lit only by the abstract steel wall lamps, whose dim lights cast soft shadows across the room. Paintings and photographs line the walls, as well as detailed blueprints and intricate diagrams.

Best of all about the Map Room is the smell. The thick aromas of breakfast waft from the kitchen around the cosy room. Bacon, sausages, fried eggs, poached eggs, boiled eggs, scrambled eggs, mushrooms, tomatoes, hash browns, black puddings, toast, waffles, pancakes, French toast, bagels; everything you could want to eat being cooked up in the kitchen.

A tall, clean shaven man in his early twenties strolls over to us. His name is George, and he's the manager of the cafe. Him and his friends left Wicked High when they were sixteen, and started up the business. They went from being referred to as lazy to being applauded for their success, the Map Room now a thriving and profitable cafe. In a couple of hours, the room is guaranteed to be filled with people; all there for a the widely renowned food and the impeccable customer service.

"What can I do for you today, Newt?" George asks with a smile, swiping his blond hair away from his aqua eyes.

Newt, who is obviously a regular here, just replies "the usual". He turns to me. "What about you, Indie?"

I'm terrible at decisions, so I just reply with the first thing that comes into my mind. "I'll have French toast, please."

With a nod and another smile, George leads us to a round wooden table in the corner of the room. I slide in to one of the two armchairs encircling it, Newt the other. George slips away and returns to the kitchen.

"Why are we here?" I ask, looking at Newt.

He looks surprised by the question. "Well... Why not? Ya didn't look all that great at the hospital, and I thought some good food might cheer you up. Good that?"

"Um, yeah, good that."

Luckily the awkward silence doesn't last too long. A few more people are being shown to their seats on other sides of the room, and their casual chatter seems to cease the tension.

The service which the cafe is popular for doesn't fail to deliver. Within five or so minutes of our order, our food is being brought out. It's amazing. On one plate, a stack of French toast is dripping maple syrup, and dusted in white icing sugar. On the other, the yolks of two fried eggs are deep orange, crispy bacon curls almost artistically, and fresh white toast lies in thick slices. Two mugs of steaming tea accompany our breakfasts.

My plate is laid down on the table before me, and I slice through the bread. It tastes amazing. The sweet syrup compliments the rich flavours of egg, and the soft bread falls apart in my mouth. The powdery sugar on top is mixed with cinnamon, and the unexpected taste is magical. I rarely eat at the Map Room, it being on the other side of the city, but whenever u do come I remember why it's so popular.

Across the table, Newt is also tucking into his meal. Orange yolk stains the corners of his mouth, and their are breadcrumbs dusting his grey hoodie. He catches my eye and grins through a mouthful of food.

"Oh my gosh, this food is so good," I moan.

"I know," he replies, "that's why we're here."

I smile. "Thanks for bringing me, by the way."

"No worries. I couldn't have bloody well left you in that room with a comatose girl and her mourning parents. It's enough to make the happiest person blue, let alone the person who's been in that hospital since the early hours of the morning."

I grimace at the thought of Lex and her parents, and try to change the subject. "Do you come here a lot?"

"Yeah. George is my older brother. My parents hate this place, think it's a waste of education and intellect. I come here to support him, y'know, make sure he has at least one customer." Newt beams proudly, his eyes flickering towards where George is tending to some new customers.

"I think it's perfect," I announce.

"I hoped you'd like it," Newt says, his smile broadening.

"Do you take people here a lot?"

Newt's smile falls. "Yeah, Minho likes it. I've tried to take Kizzi, but she doesn't like it. Thinks it's too dark, and hates that it doesn't fit her diet plan."

"Oh,"

"Yeah."

I feel awkward now that Newt's mentioning diets, especially with a giant plate of French toast in front of me. Oh well. Who needs a summer body anyway?

"I love Kizzi," Newt continues, "but I worry about what she's doing to herself. Her diets... I feel like they're more than just healthy eating. And then there're the addictions. Drugs, alcohol. I try to tell her that she's hurting herself, but she won't listen. It's like she doesn't want to fix it. And what other people think of her, that matters so much to her. That's why she doesn't want to eat here, I guess. She doesn't want anyone to think she eats unhealthy food. Why am I telling you this? Ah, I don't know what I'm doing. Everything's so confusing."

Wow. He's still into Kizzi, then. Do I want it to be different? I hate to admit it, but I wouldn't be sad if they broke up. Partly because she's making him anxious, and partly because...

"I know how you feel. I know Lex and I fell out, but I still worry about her. I'm just glad she's my only friend I need to worry about..." I reply.

My pocket starts vibrating. I pull out my phone and stare at the screen, where Minho's contact has appeared. "I'm gonna have to take this," I murmur apologetically.

"Indie? Are you there? It's Lex. She's awake."


	6. Chapter 6

I'm walking down the street and stuffing toast in my mouth, my eyes barely open and my head aching mercilessly. As you can probably tell, I'm a late riser. Definitely not an early bird, although I envy those who are. Also, as you may have deduced, I'm eating breakfast while walking because I don't want to be late to school. I already took the day off yesterday. But even though I have school today, and even though there's a high chance that I'm gonna get yelled at for being late, I don't mind. Because I have my best friend back.

The crash was horrific. They say she's lucky to have survived, even luckier to have escaped brain damage. She might be on crutches, her some of her bones might be fixed together with metal pins, and it's true that she's looking a little worse for wear, but she woke up. And she apologised.

As soon as Newt and I received that phone call, we were back on his bike, speeding down the streets to the hospital. I tripped up the stairs four times, something that only I could achieve. It might've had something to do with how fast I was running. I almost ran straight into stretcher, earning myself a disgusted glare from the nurse wheeling it. When the door to Lex's ward came into view, I pushed it so hard that Minho didn't have time to jump out of the way before it smacked him in the side. Only stopping to gasp a wheezy apology (which was almost impossible to hear behind the clamour of Minho yelling curses at me), I looked towards Lex's bed.

She was sat up. On one side of her, her parents were acting as joyful as they would if she had awoken from death, not just unconsciousness. On the other, Minho had sped across the room to join her, and was both clasping her hands protectively and throwing disdainful glances across the room at me. I couldn't stop the smile tugging at my lips, and was delighted to see Lex's expression mirroring my own.

"Mum, dad, Minho, can you give us a second?" Lex asked. Minho looked taken aback, but her parents obediently walked out of the room. Newt emerged from the shadows in the corner of the room and gestured for Minho to follow, thus finally we were left in peace.

I opened my mouth, but before any sound could come out Lex started talking. "Minho told me about the crash. He told me that he called everyone, but you were the only one he could get hold of. To be honest, you were the least likely person to do anything about it, thanks to how I've acted. I've been a complete stick, and I guess I just want to say I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have treated you like I have done, I've been a jacked up slinthead. The only thing I can do now is apologise. I'm so sorry. I messed up. You don't have to forgive me-"

I cut Lex of by leaping forward and hugging her harder than a person in a hospital bed should ever be hugged. I was crying, she was crying, there were enough tears to fill a bucket.

You might be thinking that I accepted her apology way too quickly. You're probably right. The thing was, when I suddenly had my best friend saying sorry for all the klunk she'd done, all I wanted was to erase those moments from history. I was so worried about her, so relieved to see her okay, I didn't care. The accident put everything in perspective. Life is really too short for us to turn our back on apologies from our best friends.

So now, as I'm strolling down the pavement and dusting breadcrumbs off of my jumper, I feel like there isn't a thing that can make this day go wrong. Nope, nothing. This sunny Wednesday will be a seamlessly beautiful day of celebration. Nothing can go wr...

Holy shuck.

At the end of the street, Kizzi is passionately making out with someone. I grimace. I do _not_ want to see her with her tongue in Newt's mouth. That would be gross... Wait, since when did Newt have brown hair?

Okay, whoever that guy is, it's not Newt. I dive my hand into my pocket and rummage around until I grasp my phone. Whipping it out, I quickly open the camera. I tap my thumb on the record button. I want to look away, to walk away, to do anything to avoid seeing what I'm seeing. Newt's girlfriend is cheating on him. He's going to be so upset!

The stranger's face comes partially into view. Thick eyebrows, smooth coffee-coloured hair, square jaw - pretty attractive guy, in fairness. But still. Kizzi is _cheating_ on _Newt_ for this guy? Why?

I've seen enough. Ending the video, I spin on my heels and cut through and alley to avoid walking past them. I don't know what to do. Newt would want to know about this, right? Or am I going to break his heart? Should I even tell him? I don't know...

I walk into school just as the bell announces the start of lessons.

Even for a double maths session, my concentration has been awful. I know that. So does the teacher, judging by the grim way he keeps looking at me. Usually I'm alright at maths, but today...no. I've been planning how I'm going to break the news to Newt, and fretting about how he'll take it. For the first time, the ring of the bell isn't a welcome sound. I know what I have to do, I just don't want to. As I'm swept out into the corridor by the mass of kids in my class, I stare down the corridor for a sign of Newt. Sure enough, he's stood by his locker, leaning against it nonchalantly. He's talking to someone. Kizzi. Shuck.

Newt catches my eyes and smiles warmly. Kizzi, noticing this gesture, turns around and glares at me. Fortunately for me, though, Teresa appears out of the crowd and grabs Kizzi, dragging her off while waving her phone and pointing at something on the screen. Taking this opportunity, I hurry towards Newt. Seeing my nervous expression, his happy expression switches to one of concern. "What's happened?"

I don't know how to begin. "Um, Newt, can I have a second? And, er, do you know anywhere, um, private?"

I cringe. I don't think I could've worded that any worse.

"Yeah, sure. Any of the classrooms should be pretty empty. What's up?" Newt replies inquisitively.

"Just...come with me."

He follows me into a deserted maths classroom. I make sure we're out of earshot before I start talking. "Do you love Kizzi?"

Newt suddenly becomes very awkward. "Um, well, yeah-"

"There's something I have to show you. Don't speak. Just...watch." I say. My phone is in my hand, open to the video. I tap the play button. The footage of Kizzi making out with some random guy on the street fills the screen. I'm not interested in what's happening on the tape, though. I'm watching Newt's face. His eyebrows knit together and confusion is obvious in his chocolate eyes. His lips part slightly as he gasps in shock. Should I say something? Should I apologise? I'm not so certain I should've shown him anymore.

"I should've know," Newt declares. He's clearly trying to mask his sadness, pretend that he doesn't care. It's not working very well, though, I can see the mist of tears glistening over his eyes.

"Newt, I-"

Before I can finish my sentence, he storms out of the classroom. I rush after him. I want to make sure he's okay, but also, well, he's still holding my phone.

Before I can catch up, he's found Kizzi. He's holding my phone up to her face, wearing a surprisingly calm expression. Stood behind Kizzi are Teresa, Harriet and some girls I don't know, one who has shoddily dip-dyed blonde and black hair, another with vibrant red lipstick that is undeniably against school regulations, and the last sporting her own attempt at a messy bun, which has so much stray hair sticking out at odd angles that it looks like a porcupine.

I get within earshot of the conversation - not that that's hard, they're not exactly having a quiet and friendly chat.

"What are you doing in this video, Kizzi?" Newt asks darkly.

Kizzi looks both shocked and mortified. "Where d'you get that?"

"None of your bloody business. Answer my question."

"That's... I can explain, Newt! Don't look at me like that- shuck, it, Newt, isn't it obvious what I'm doing there?!"

"You never told me you were having an affair."

"Yeah, well, whatever, not like ya gave a klunk! Stephen-"

"Oh, so he's called Stephen? You'll have to introduce me sometime."

"Stop being so mean! It's not my fault! You're the one that left! Of course I was lonely! I obvs wanted someone else in my life, since you weren't there to date me!"

Newt steps backward, his stoic mask evaporating and revealing a look of hurt and utter betrayal. "You mean... You've been cheating on me for that long? When I came back, and for years since then, you've never bothered to inform me of your other love life? That's bloody pathetic, that's what-"

Kizzi interrupts him. "I knew you'd take it like this! That's why I never told you!"

"What, so you thought I'd never find out?!"

"Well, no, I was gonna get round to breaking up with you eventually."

"I wish you'd done it sooner."

With that, Newt leaves. He pauses for a second to pass me my phone, but then he just goes. Straight out of the door. He leaves school.

The bell rings, and his departing figure is lost in the mass of bodies which surges towards the lockers.

Brenda's idle chatter isn't really registering in my brain. I'm moving my uneaten lunch around the plate, rolling a cherry tomato in circles. All I can think about is Newt. Is he okay? I tried calling him as soon as the bell went for lunch, but he didn't pick up. I hope he's okay.

The other side of me, Frypan and Winston are engaged in an argument about whether or not chefs are more important than doctors. I don't think I need to tell you who's arguing for which side. Amidst the hubbub of the enthusiastic conversations across the hall, one voice is clear and menacing. It's also coming from directly in front of me.

"Oh, look, it's the little snitch. The one who just messed up my relationship. The one who is enough of a slinthead to assume that she's allowed to go snooping around in other people's private lives. Also the shank who's obsessed with _my_ ex, and who's been plotting against me ever since she got jealous of how much he loves me. Some people are so _low_."

Suddenly there's a squeal of chair legs as Brenda leaps up and stands with her nose only centimetres away from Kizzi's face. "Hey, guys, look, it's that shucking pile of klunk in a skirt again! Y'know, the one that thinks she's a princess! Oh, don't tell her that it's not royal blood she's got - that's really just a frog she's related to, not a prince. Oh, yeah, that must be why she's such a stinking stick! If she had any decency, she'd accept the fact that she's the one here who deserves to rot in hell - after all, she cheated, lied, and acted like an absolute slinthead! But nah, she's too arrogant for that, instead she has to pin the blame on someone else. Of course, this pretty little darling could never do anything wrong-"

"One more word and I'll make you shut up."

Teresa has pushed Brenda backwards and is forcing her against the table. Before I realise what I'm doing, I've grabbed Teresa by the shoulder and landed a punch in her stomach. The next thing I feel is a kick aimed at the back of my knee, causing it to buckle. Then, someone else's knee in my back. Next, my head is slammed into the edge of the table.

The last thing I see is a squished pea on the dining hall floor, before my head collides with the table again.

I wake up with my head pounding mercilessly, and a rigid mattress beneath me. Where am I? What happened? Oh, wait. I remember what happened.

I stare up at the slightly stained yellow ceiling, and lean back on the bed. A tsunami of nausea threatens to overwhelm me, but I swallow it back and wince at the wave of acid now scorching my oesophagus. The school sick-room is unhygienic and grotty, only ever being cleaned when an inspection is due; the caretakers don't want to deal with the remnants of sick on the blue linoleum floor. The room smells as bad as an unclean nurse's room should: like bile, sweat and blood have been mixed together and turned into an aerosol. I can hear footsteps coming closer.

"Ah, your awake. The headmistress would like a word with you, missy," the nurse informs me scoldingly. Before I have a moment to properly get my senses back, she pulls me up by my shoulder and yanks me off towards what I know to be certain doom. Despite how lumpy and stiff that bed is, I'd still rather be lying in it than being paraded off towards the head's - after all, my head still feels like it's being attacked by a mini army carrying pickaxes.

I can't help but question the nurse's training as she drags me down the corridor and pushes me into the head's office. Seated in a circle is everyone involved in the fight. Brenda throws a concerned look up at me, but everyone else in the group glares indiscreetly. There's only one empty chair, and it's between Teresa and Kizzi. They both give me insulting looks as I sit down.

"Well, I'm sure you all know why you're here," says Mrs Paige irritatedly, beginning her speech before I can properly sit down. "Bullying, fighting, arguing and disagreements of any sort are not welcome at this school. You're lucky that no one was seriously injured."

What? Yeah, other than me being knocked out pretty nicely, sure, nobody got hurt at all.

"I know that you are all big, grown up girls, and you don't appreciate me telling you off. I'm going to be very lenient, here, because I will be sure to expect no more disagreements whatsoever between yourselves in the future. You will not be punished hereafter. But if I see so much as a glare between you, expect no less than a week's worth of detentions. Off you go, then, girls. I have important business to attend to."

None of us have any doubt that there is no such important business. This is just an excuse to get us out of the way. After all, Mrs Paige spends all her time cooped up in here, staring at her ancient computer and eating the crisps whose packets fill the overflowing bin under her dusty desk. In all honesty, I wouldn't mind knowing what she does do in her spare time - the only work I ever see on her desk is a variety of diagrams of brains.

The room files slowly out of the door, and we make our way to our different lessons. With my head feeling as though someone is repeatedly punching the inside of my skull, it's no real surprise that I'm not looking forward to the following class.

While I walk home through the city, I have my phone pressed against my ear in the hope that Newt will pick up. Twice now it's gone through to voicemail. This has got to be my last try. I don't want to seem desperate. I also don't want to annoy him. If he wants to be alone, I guess I should just leave him alone. He's suffering from post-breakup heartache, and I might not be the best sympathiser about something like that-

"Hey, Indie," greets a voice from the side of the road, interrupting my train of thoughts and making me jump so much I nearly trip into the road. As the passing car honks me, I throw Newt a look crossed between annoyance and relief. He doesn't look like he's been crying. There's no redness around his not-puffy eyes, and no dried tear tracks down his face. More than anything, he looks smug about the fact that I'm lugging my heavy bag full of homework whilst he is able to stroll down the street carefree. I have to admit, I'm shocked - both at his lack of emotion and ability to skive so effectively.

I look at him with as much contempt as I can muster. "It's not nice to sneak up on people."

He grins broadly, and my heart stutters. Wait, what? He's just broken up with his girlfriend, and I'm already letting different feelings absorb me. How long's it been, an hour or two? He's still looking at me. I can't deny that the butterflies in my stomach are seeming to breed, multiplying by the dozen until my chest feels like it's going to explode...stop, Indie, thi is never gonna work out. I guess I wish it could, though...

"I was just wondering if you would like to take a walk with me," he asks politely.

"Um, sure..." I reply, fighting to keep the blush out of my cheeks. I've never acted this bad before. I can't even look at him as he leads me down the street, heading towards a park at the end of the road.

As we walk through the gate, he suddenly stops me. "Thanks for telling me about Kizzi today. I guess I should've known, it's just...well, she's been there for me ever since I can remember, really, I just didn't want to think it could happen..."

"No problem," I reply awkwardly. "Just looking out for a friend."

But as I look up at him, I realise I want him to be more than a friend. I know it's too soon. I know I shouldn't. But maybe it's the light, because suddenly his lips look like a beautifully written invitation to an event that everybody wants to go to. I simply can't refuse...


End file.
